


The heat of it all

by catmanu



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I am so soft my dudes, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Non-Explicit Sex, Rakidrić - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 16:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21412831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catmanu/pseuds/catmanu
Summary: Ivan's in Zagreb with the Croatian NT, but his injury is keeping him from playing against Slovakia.There's only one thing he thinks canreallyhelp him feel better.
Relationships: Luka Modrić/Ivan Rakitić
Comments: 9
Kudos: 35





	The heat of it all

**Author's Note:**

> I'm REAL SAD about Ivan's achilles tendon injury keeping him from the game, in case that wasn't obvious!!!
> 
> P.S. I ship this so hard it hurts.

At least Dalić is accepting of Ivan’s news.  
  
“We’ll see what medical says about you,” he says, a hand on Ivan’s shoulder. “And…Ivan?” Zlatko adds.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“You’ve let our captain know, right?” He pauses. “I assume you have.”  
  
Ivan considers that pause. He often wonders what exactly their coach knows. He’s wondered for years.  
  
“Of course I have,” Ivan says. “But I’m going to go talk to him now, actually. Work out some details.”  
  
He’s so dumb sometimes. What the fuck does that even mean? Dalić smiles.  
  
“You do that,” he says.  
  
Ivan decides not to think about it further.

  
  
*

  
Doing anything to upset Luka hurts more than any injury. Luka is worried about him. The lines in his face grow longer. His big, round eyes narrow in Ivan’s direction.  
  
“I keep thinking that maybe you shouldn’t have even come to Zagreb,” he says.  
  
“Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen,” Ivan says. “I didn’t want to have to wait till El Clásico to see you. For all I know I’m not even getting off the bench in that game this time.”  
  
Luka squeezes his shoulder for a moment right there in the conference room. “It’s so unfair,” he starts, but then he flashes Ivan his grin full of teeth. “Who will I exchange sweaty jerseys with then?”  
  
“You could just _give_ me yours,” Ivan says.  
  
“But then what do I get?”  
  
Ivan shrugs. “My socks? My underwear?”  
  
“I’ll pass.” Luka waits for a second. Ivan sees him remember that Ivan won’t be playing against Slovakia. His brown eyes are sad again—not as sad as Ivan’s heart is now feeling. He hates it. “I wish—I wish—“  
  
“So do I.” Ivan swallows.  
  
Luka smiles and it’s a soft one, as soft as his face can get. “Want to check into your room?”  
  
“I’ve already—oh. Yeah.” His stupidity makes him blush.  
  
“Your _real_ room,” Luka says. “Ours.”  
  
Their rooms aren’t adjoining so they do what they always do—Luka hands Ivan his extra room key and Ivan sits and watches him unpack. He never forgets to bring Ivan’s favorite body wash. At one point, years ago, he’d showed Ivan the list he kept on his phone—_Things Ivan Likes_. But by now it’s second nature for him.  
  
“You can be my assistant,” Luka says. “Every captain needs one.”  
  
“Captains don’t have _assistants_,” Ivan snorts. “They have like, first mates or something.”  
  
Luka sits down at the edge of the bed and pats it. Ivan joins him. It’s a comfortable bed, and the sheets are so nicely made. Ivan can’t wait to fuck them up later.  
  
“So you can be my first mate,” Luka says, but he says it to the side of Ivan’s face between kisses. His nose rubs against the soft skin behind Ivan’s ear. Ivan has goosebumps.  
  
He traces little spirals over Luka’s thighs. If he presses down he’ll feel all that muscle, rock-hard, the muscle that brings teams to victory, the— “Quickie?”  
  
“Ivan...no.” The hot breath behind Ivan’s ear makes the _no_ feel like a _yes_, and Ivan puts his arms around him. “It’s been long enough, I need...preparation. And there’s not enough time.”  
  
Ivan runs his thumb over the heart-shaped lips. “So use your mouth.”  
  
Luka raises his eyebrows. “You’re supposed to be resting or something.”  
  
Ivan flings himself backwards onto the bed, sprawling on their pillows. “Look at me. I’m resting.”  
  
“Nope.” Luka is putting on fresh deodorant and grabbing some papers. “We’re going over some techniques downstairs. Either come and be my first mate or whatever, or rest.” He gives Ivan that concerned look again. “If you fuck around and hurt yourself more I will actually kill you.”  
  
Ivan believes it.  
  
He chooses to join Luka, but the sadness settles back in his chest and just like this year keeps doing to him, the thought of football can’t cheer him up.  
  
Only the thought of Luka, later that night, pale and flushed on the clean white sheets, and he hopes that will be enough.

  
  
*  
  
  
He doesn’t have to worry about _making Luka feel good_. They just _go_—Ivan gripping Luka’s shoulders, pushing—Luka’s strong legs wrapped around his legs or around his back, pulling him closer, deeper—It never was like this with anyone else but they’re past words, he and his captain. If something isn’t right they feel it and fix it without needing a single word.  
  
Tonight they don’t even really talk. It’s been over a month. They’re too hungry and needy to do the usual, see who can talk the filthiest, tease the most. Maybe tomorrow. _Tomorrow_, Ivan realizes. There’s going to be a fucking tomorrow. Even though he’s injured and can’t play against Slovakia, tonight he and Luka have a tomorrow—  
  
As Ivan finishes, for a moment he sees it—Rujevica stadium surrounded by a ring of fire—comets blazing overhead—the scoreboards half lit up, half in the shadow of the flames showing a wild score—7-0–and as his hips thrust wildly forward against Luka’s he thinks he feels the scorching heat of fire on his face.  
  
He collapses, exhausted, exhilarated, and rubs his cheek against Luka’s, touches his forehead to Luka’s and sinks into the sheen of sweat there, and does this for what must be infinity until he feels Luka’s strong legs nudge his back impatiently.  
  
Whoops. He smiles a little, sheepish, and reaches his hand in between them to help Luka out only to find Luka’s hand already there. So together, then.  
  
At least they’re together, doing what they should be, their skin burning hot before Luka makes Rujevica burn.  
  
Afterward he rolls into his back and pulls Luka with him. Luka rearranges himself so they’re holding each other, and Ivan strokes his sweaty hair like he’s been dying of thirst and this hair is an oasis. It had been so clean and fluffy earlier. Ivan’s stupidly proud of what he does to it.  
  
“You can shower with me if you want,” Luka says, breaking the silence to take care of practical things because that’s just how he is. It’s why he’s captain. It’s natural for him. “But we have to just shower. No more of...this kind of thing. I have a busy day tomorrow and I have to do it without my first mate. Co-captain.”  
  
Ivan can’t handle this. “I’ll _be_ there,” he says, grabbing Luka’s sweaty hands.  
  
“Not really in the way I wish you were, but yes. You’ll be there.” Luka kisses Ivan’s hands, not particularly caring about where some of his fingers have recently been. They’re so past all of that now. Everything is natural. He forgets just what that feels like until it happens again.  
  
Ivan kisses him for the thousandth time.  
  
Luka reaches to turn on the light and Ivan catches a little wrinkle of pain on his face as he moves. Whoops, again. Luka sees him noticing. “You think next time we should be a little more...chill?” he asks. “You didn’t exactly hold back. I don’t want you to hurt yourself _more_.”  
  
“Stop worrying,” Ivan says. Luka is getting out of bed, heading to the shower. Ivan wraps his arms around his waist, partly to grope the firmness of his abs—just like his own—and partly to just keep him there. “Nooooo. Don’t get up yet.”  
  
“I told you to come with me!” Luka laughs, pretending to struggle in his arms.  
  
“Noooooo.” It’s not hard to pull him back onto the bed. “Not yet. Not _yetttt_. I’m injured, right? You have to make me feel better.”  
  
Luka laughs. “Ivan...you’re such a pain in the ass. Anyone else would listen to their captain.”  
  
“That’s true. But would they do this to their captain?” Ivan kisses him open- mouthed. Luka’s tongue is ready for his. _Sure,_ Ivan thinks. _He wants to shower soooo badly._  
  
“None of our guys would, no. Their captain isn’t available.”  
  
“And would they do—“ He pushes Luka onto his back—he goes so easily when he wants it—and kisses all the pale skin that’s never seen a drop of ink—over his ribs, over his stomach, licking into his belly button to make him laugh, over the peaks of his hipbones—with each kiss downward the skin underneath his lips grows sweatier. “Would they do this—“  
  
“N—n—" The voice, suddenly hoarse and breathy, gives up. “Fuck you, Ivan, I wanted to shower.”  
  
Ivan frees his mouth for a moment. “Really? Are you sure? I don’t see you trying very hard.”  
  
Luka knees him in the face.  
  
His injury might not be healed, but him? The pain of it in his heart is almost all gone. And it’s just their first night.  
  
He sees the flames again as he closes his eyes to take Luka into his mouth and taste him fully. There is Rujevica, lit up in a blaze of glory—and there he is, sitting there taking it in, the heat of it all holding him, healing him.


End file.
